


a house on a lake

by jennycaakes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Hopeful Ending, Lots of drinking, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Canon, octavia and miller share a cabin to learn how to cope, the delinquents are happy, very minor bellarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 19:00:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7000600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/pseuds/jennycaakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the delinquents finally stop walking, their legs giving out from exhaustion and the weight of the world so heavy that they can’t bear to take another step, they stop at a lake. </p><p>--</p><p>Monty x Miller, post season 3</p>
            </blockquote>





	a house on a lake

**Author's Note:**

> This was forged out of Bryan and Miller's sickly sweet conversation about growing old together. And then Bryan was shot, so, I mean, ya never know how things will go. Hope you like it!

When the delinquents finally stop walking, their legs giving out from exhaustion and the weight of the world so heavy that they can’t bear to take another step, they stop at a lake.

Miller stays on his feet longer than the rest of them. Most collapse, basically crawling to scoop water into their hands and drink. Others just lay on the ground with their arms outstretched, staring up at the endless blue sky that stretches above them. Miller just stands.

“Miller,” Bellamy rasps from where he’s crouched. “Catch your breath.”

He stares out across the lake, the water rippling from the light breeze, and lets out a shuddering breath. He collapses to his knees without a word.

\--

Octavia finds Miller sitting in the mud, stabbing at the ground with his knife. Again, and again, and again. She lowers herself to the ground next to him. Bellamy might be Miller’s best friend, but Miller and Octavia aren’t close. They never have been. He isn’t even sure if they’re friends at all.

But she’s sitting next to him, watching as he digs the knife deeper and deeper into the ground.

 _We’re gonna build a house on a lake_ , Miller thinks, clenching his teeth when his eyes start to burn.

“Build it for him,” Octavia says as though she’s listening to Miller’s thoughts. He commands himself to swallow and glances out across the lake another time. She was there for that one conversation, that one _final_ conversation that was so full of hope and future and ending wars. He’s surprised that after all this time has passed, after recruiting Grounders for their quest to save the world and retreating up north to a place Azgeda sanctioned for them, that Octavia remembers that conversation. That after driving a sword through Pike, that after Bellamy coaxed her back from her unceasing anger, that she remembers _that conversation_. Of when Miller was hopeful, holding Bryan close before he was shot. Before his infection claimed him. Before they ended up here. “I’ll help you.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Miller forces out. Octavia doesn’t move. Miller blinks hard, grinding his teeth tighter together. Bryan’s infection made him weak and it took him as though he was marked for death from the moment he landed on the ground. Building a cabin for him wouldn’t change that. “I don’t need your help. And I don’t want it.”

“Too bad.” Octavia pushes herself to her feet, kicks the knife out of Miller’s hand and into the water, and then extends her hand to him. “I need a roommate.”

Miller scoffs, looking up at her outstretched hand. Hands that causes Bellamy to flinch whenever they move toward him. “No thanks.” Octavia waggles her fingers in an impatient manner and Miller finally sighs, reaching out to grab it. She pulls him up with a firm grip. He’s taller than her, but Octavia’s gaze is so fierce that Miller feels about the same height as her anyway. Maybe smaller. He’s been feeling so small, lately, and Octavia’s inflated a few degrees since killing Pike.

“I need a roommate,” Octavia says. No one else wants her. Miller isn’t surprised. “You don’t need the room facing the lake.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Miller mutters.

“Then we don’t have to talk about it.”

\--

The cabin’s half built when Monty stops by, eyeing their work.

When Miller and Octavia announced they were building a cabin together, nearly everyone was shocked. But she couldn’t live with Bellamy, they were still healing (maybe they would never be fully healed), and she didn’t feel like she belonged with anyone else. Besides, Murphy and Emori are rooming together, and Bellamy and Clarke are sharing a cabin in the center of camp too. No one wanted Miller, either.

Octavia doesn’t exactly fit in with Miller either but they’ve both lost someone they love. She knows his pain, and he knows hers. Both of them had people taken right before their eyes. Different circumstances, but still dead.

“You and Octavia aren’t even close,” Monty points out as he walks the perimeter. Miller shrugs. “You sure you can handle her?”

Miller pops his shoulder into a shrug. “Nope.” Monty offers him a smile, soft and small, and Miller looks away. He doesn’t like the way it makes him feel.

“Which room’ll be yours?” Monty asks, maybe noticing the tension on Miller’s face. Miller gestures to a room that faces the mountains, not the lake, and Monty frowns. “Don’t the mountains remind you of Mount Weather?” he asks a bit hesitantly.

“Better than the lake,” Miller mutters. He doesn’t give anymore explanation than that.

\--

It’s the sound that startles Miller the most, the sound of fucking _chickens_.

They had them on Agro Station, and Miller was only ever in Agro Station for _him_ , and there was a promise lost along the way somewhere about raising chickens. There’re new medications, or injections, or whatever, that Clarke and her brain crew and help from ALIE 2.0 have created to help strengthen their eventual dinner, so they’ll last through the potential radiation and the biting winter.

Octavia’s at his side before he realizes it and Miller startles at her silent presence. “You want one?” she asks.

“Absolutely not,” he answers. Monty and Jasper are securing the gate to keep them in for now while they build a coop to keep the foxes out. The delinquents are going to be raising _chickens_. “I feel nauseous,” Miller mutters, hoping to hear some of that old sarcasm in his voice. He just sounds sad.

Octavia elbows him hard. “Let’s go.” Miller catches Monty’s eyes before he turns on his heel and walks away without looking back.

\--

Their cabin has a porch.

He and Octavia spend the evenings out on the porch, staring across the lake and watching the sunset. It’d be romantic, probably, if Miller didn’t only have a thing for dudes and Octavia still had her soul. They’re not friends, not even after bonding through blood sweat and tears to have the best fucking cabin out of the remaining survivors. But they exist beside one another, and for now that’s enough.

He hears Octavia sniff and his eyes flicker in her direction, finding her swatting away tears.

Miller hesitates. “Should I say something,” he finally asks, “or ignore it?”

“Would you want _me_ to say something?” Octavia snaps, her voice thick.

“Ignore it, it is,” he says. “Got it.”

\--

“I’m recruiting you,” Monty says.

His hand is heavy on Miller’s forearm, tugging him out of his cabin. Miller’s been spending a lot of time inside of his cabin. He and Octavia throw knives at the wall to try and get them to stick, and take a shot of moonshine every time they fail. He’s a little unsteady at the moment.

“For what?” Miller slurs.

Monty pauses, pulling his hand away and looking Miller up and down. “Are you drunk? It’s the middle of the day.”

“Time’s a social construct that we don’t have to follow anymore,” Miller answers.

Monty’s lips tug into a smile. “Oh yeah?” he asks, and Miller nods. He leans against the railing of his porch and looks down at Monty. He needs a haircut, it’s a little longer than Miller’s used to. His thick hair is covering his eyes now unless he pushes it to the side. “Well no one gave me that memo,” Monty says.

“Unfortunate for you.” Miller hears a thunk from inside the cabin, another knife, that soon clatters to the floor. “That’s my cue,” he says. “Need another shot.”

“Nate,” Monty laughs, reaching out to stop him from going inside.

And it works. Miller freezes. _Nate_. So light and bright, so soft and sincere. The world shifts under his feet. He stares at Monty, watching the boy’s smile slide from his face, and Miller clenches his teeth. Waves of red and blue are crashing inside of him. Fire and ice, anger and despair, confusion and guilt.

“Miller,” Octavia calls. “It’s your turn!”

Miller grips the railing a little tighter. “What did you want?” Miller manages to ask.

“Need some help in the fields,” Monty says, shifting awkwardly. “Harper came back from her trade with a nearby village.” He starts talking as though maybe something will catch Miller’s interest, “We’re not planting until spring but we’ve got some melons, squash, corn—”

Miller spins on his heel and marches back inside the cabin, slamming the door shut behind him. Octavia tosses him the bottle of moonshine before he even makes it back to his seat.

 _You’re gonna plant corn_ , Miller remembers saying. His words a promise, a truth that was yanked out of their hands.

He chugs moonshine until he can’t see straight.

\--

“God, you’re a fucking drag,” Raven says. Miller tips his head at her, narrowing his eyes slightly. He wishes that she could swim, because if so he’d push her in the fucking lake. “Don’t you remember how to have a conversation, Miller?”

“No.” She scoffs. “Conversation scares the fish away.”

Raven scoffs again, readjusting the machine in her hands. She and Monty have been working day and night to create a water purification system, and Miller’s out fishing while she gets the test run of their new machine set up. If it’s successful then they have to mass produce them, send them across to the different clans.

“We’ve been here for two months,” she says. Miller shrugs. So what? “You’ve just—stop shutting us out.”

“I don’t shut people out,” he says. You can’t shut people out if you never let them in in the first place.

If Raven had enough energy to scoff, she’d probably do it again. Instead she rolls her eyes. “You shut Monty out,” Raven says, shifting enough that the boat rocks and causes waves. “Can’t even look at him anymore.” Miller grits his teeth and stares at the water. “Besides,” she adds. “We all lost people.”

It’s Miller’s turn to scoff. “Wow. Thanks.”

“Bellamy lost Gina, Monty lost his mom, I lost Sinclair, we—”

“I didn’t realize you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with Sinclair,” Miller snaps. “I didn’t realize that you were in love with him and had plans of a future together.” Raven lets him rant, studying him as he carries on. “I didn’t realize that you pictured waking up in his arms every morning for the rest of your fucking life. My _mistake_.”

Raven quirks her eyebrows. “Finished?” she asks. Miller’s seething with anger and his eyes are burning. He needs moonshine as soon as fucking possible. “Number one,” Raven says, “don’t be fucking rude. I lost Finn, too. And number two, I _did_ love Sinclair. Not like _that_ , but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”

\--

Miller comes down with a fever.

A sudden winter storm sweeps in, a side effect of the changing weather, and he and Octavia are fucking useless. After a bottle of moonshine he falls asleep on the porch and wakes up with a cold so terrible that every breath feels like he’s dying. Like a bullet to the chest. Abby’s surprised he doesn’t have frostbite, but she orders him to bedrest until further notice. With the belief that radiation's creeping into the air with every passing day, people are pretty worried.

“I’ve never taken care of anyone before,” Octavia says, lingering in Miller’s doorway when he wakes up feeling like he’s on fire, “and I’m not starting with you.”

“I hate you,” Miller responds.

She almost smiles.

Bellamy ends up taking care of Miller more than anyone, but Clarke stops in a bit too. His fever gets so intense one day that he falls asleep in his bed but wakes up in the medical cabin that they built attached to Kane and Abby’s home. Monty’s sitting in a nearby chair when he comes to, but moves forward with a cold rag to wipe the sweat from Miller’s forehead.

“You’re not allowed to die like this,” Monty says. His voice is tight and wet. “We made it. And you’re not allowed to die like _this_.”

Despite the fact that he’s burning, Miller shivers. “Might not have much of a choice,” he rasps.

“There’s always a choice,” Monty says, still carefully wiping the cool rag over his forehead. “I’ve chosen that you’re not allowed to die.”

He gets better within the week.

\--

When the spring comes and the grass is green again, Miller finds himself sitting around a campfire with his friends. He may enjoy being alone, and not talking to any of them, and suffocating himself with loneliness, but they’re still his friends. He _does_ love them, even if he can’t talk to them.

Octavia’s to his left and Miller thinks that maybe they could consider each other best friends. Her and Bellamy are still struggling to get their siblinghood back, and things have been rough between Bellamy and Miller due to Miller’s reluctance to converse with anyone. But Miller and Octavia, maybe they could be best friends. If they were friends at all.

Murphy’s telling some story about his time trapped inside the bunker for three months, but he’s telling it in a way that’s making people laugh. About a discovery of some sort of book hidden on the shelf or something or other. Miller’s only half listening.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Monty says from Miller’s right. Miller doesn’t look at him. “You haven’t been around.” Finally, Miller turns to look at the boy beside him. “I miss seeing your face,” Monty says.

There’s a joke in his voice, but Miller’s stomach feels heavy and everything feels wrong, wrong. Miller doesn’t respond. Instead he nudges Octavia with his elbow.

They leave the fire together.

\--

Miller comes in from fishing on the lake and finds Monty sitting on his porch. Miller pauses, studying the boy who’s got his head in his hands, and clears his throat to get his attention. Monty looks up at once and is immediately pushing himself to his feet. Miller blinks, waiting, and finally Monty lets the tension leave his shoulders.

“I’m not good at walking away from people,” Monty finally says. “I’ve lost too many of them. And I’m not losing you too.” _I’m not yours to lose_ , Miller thinks. But he doesn’t say it. He just levels his gaze and waits for Monty to continue. “You’re grieving. I get that. I do. But.” Monty shakes his head and extends his hands. “I’m not losing you, okay?” Miller still doesn’t have anything to say. He just looks at this boy, this beautiful boy still so full of love and hope despite everything they’ve been through, and feels his heart aching inside of his chest.

“I told him we’d grow old together,” Miller says.

Monty seems surprised to hear Miller’s voice. “Bryan?” Monty asks. Miller winces. Monty steps toward him, his palms still open as though he’s approaching a wounded animal, and Miller doesn’t move away. “I’m sorry,” Monty says. Because that’s all there is to say. “I’m sorry that he didn’t make it.” It’s hard for Miller to swallow, and his eyes feel like they’re burning, and more than anything he wants a drink of moonshine. Still, he stays put. “But he got to see the ground,” Monty reminds him gently. “He got to be with you. And there were so many _moments_ that were so… _good_.”

“Not enough,” Miller grits out.

“More than we deserve,” Monty responds.

Miller wonders if that’s true. If they got more moments than they deserved. If those stolen moments in bed with their legs tangled together and those early morning kisses and even the _ability_ to hope, if those moments were more than he and Bryan deserved. While Miller thinks on this, on all of the aching _goodness_ that he had at one point in his life, Monty reaches out and wraps his fingers around Miller’s wrist.

“Don’t disappear on me,” Monty whispers, and his voice is urging on a plea. “I’m not asking you to talk about it, or to not talk about it, or anything like that. Just _don’t disappear_.” Miller looks down at where they’re connected, Monty’s careful hands holding him as tightly as he can without scaring him away, without breaking him. “We can still have good moments, Nate.”

Miller thinks he might believe him.

\--

“They broke up, you know.” Miller yanks his gaze away from where he’s been staring and clenches his teeth, trying to ignore Clarke’s words. He knows what she’s hinting at but it’s impossible, impossible, and he can’t even think like that. “Monty and Harper,” Clarke continues. Miller can’t help himself from glancing up again, toward Monty and Harper sitting close together at one of the picnic tables nearby. “I’m not sure if they were even really ever together.”

“Shut up, Clarke.”

“You’ve just been such a recluse these days I figured maybe you didn’t know.”

“I said _shut up_ ,” Miller says again with a bit more bite.

Clarke smirks. Because Harper and Monty, Monty specifically, can do whatever they want. Miller doesn’t care. And shouldn’t care. All of his friends have reached out to Miller on different levels. Bellamy and his distant but firm sort of caring, Raven and her more direct snark, Murphy and his pointed stares. But Monty’s been the one reaching out completely, trying to pull Miller into everyday life, checking up on him daily. Monty’s been the one smiling and offering his hand to help Miller up again.

Monty’s the one who makes Miller feel warm when all he’s felt is empty.

“Just saying,” Clarke hums. “He cares about you.”

And that’s exactly why Miller has to stay away from him.

\--

Miller leaves his bedroom, still blearily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, when he pauses in his and Octavia’s living room. She’s sitting on one of their couches with a letter in her hand and she’s smiling. She’s _smiling_. Octavia Blake is smiling for the first time in months. He stares at her until her eyes flicker up in his direction and the scowls takes her face again.

“Didn’t your dad ever teach you it’s rude to stare?” she snaps.

“Who’s the letter from?”

“None of your business,” she shoots back. She folds it quickly and shoves it in her pocket before Miller can get a good look at it. He racks his brain for a moment before remembering that they’ve set up a trade with a nearby clan and Octavia makes a lot of those trips. Maybe there’s someone over there that she’s befriended. And that’s good. Octavia needs more friends. “If you’re allowed to be happy, so am I.”

“Fuck off,” Miller says. “Who said anything about _being happy_?”

Octavia rolls her eyes in response.

\--

The first time Miller can remember laughing again, it startles him to the point in which he can’t breathe.

He’s sitting next to Bellamy at the fire, Jasper on the other side of him, and it bubbles out of him before he even knows what’s happening. Raven’s telling a story about one of her early days on the Ark when she first got hired as a mechanic, something about Sinclair being a klutz and tripping over his own two feet, and Miller _laughs_.

No one seems to think it’s a big deal except maybe Octavia, who’s watching him with a soft smile of her own, and suddenly Miller’s gasping for air. His hand flies out on reflex as he tries to steady himself and it lands on Jasper’s shoulder, who catches his arm looking concerned.

“Miller,” Jasper says lowly. “What’s wrong?”

The laughter of their friends dies down and then everyone’s looking at him, _everyone_ , and Miller stumbles to his feet and hurries away from the fire. And then he’s gasping, gasping, desperate for some sort of air to fill his lungs, desperate for his eyes to stop burning, desperate for everything to just _freeze_ for a moment.

And then Bellamy’s there, his heavy hands on Miller’s shoulders as he coaxes him back to steady ground. “Octavia sent me,” he says when Miller’s learned how to breathe again. “Well she gave me a look. It scares the shit out of me that my sister knows you better than I do these days.”

“I’m fine,” Miller says. “I just…” he trails off, unsure how to word it. But Bellamy’s not going anywhere, and there’s a look in his eyes that makes Miller feel grounded. “It doesn’t feel right. To be happy.”

Bellamy offers him a weak smile and pops his shoulder into a shrug. “You’re right. It doesn’t.”

\--

When the day that ALIE said would bring around the end of the world comes and goes without incident, and then the week passes without incident, and then another week, they decide to have a celebration.

Raven instantly starts work on her own drones to send to faraway places to see if ALIE was lying or if there’s just been some sort of delay, but there hasn’t been any signs of radiation starting up again. Raven just wants to be sure. Miller just wants to get drunk.

He ends up next to Octavia again, because they always end up next to each other these days, and she nudges him hard when she catches him staring at Monty. Miller drops his head as a bubble of shame erupts inside of his chest but Octavia nudges him again, a little more gently.

“Stop acting like a wounded animal,” Octavia says.

“You first,” he tosses back. They sit quietly. Miller returns to looking at Monty, laughing brilliantly across camp with Clarke, smiling like there’s nothing else to do in the world but smile. But live. God, Miller craves that. To remember what it’s like to smile naturally, to laugh without going into a panic attack, to _breathe_ and _live_. He tries to think back to those days in the rover when the gang would play music and drive around but any feelings with it are distant, suffocating. He can’t remember them. “I’m tired of feeling like this,” he says to Octavia.

She sighs. “Yeah.” She doesn’t say _me too_ , but Miller hears it anyway.

\--

It becomes sort of like a competition between Octavia and Miller, which is what they’re good at. One-upping each other. That’s what they’d do when they were drowning in misery—see who could take the most shots, see who could go longest without eating, see who’d be the first to break down. But this isn’t a competition based in misery, it’s one based in healing.

Octavia and Bellamy have a talk that leaves both of them with tears in their eyes. Afterwards when Octavia sees Miller she shoots him a look that says _your turn_.

So he apologizes to Raven for all that time ago.

And then Octavia lets herself get caught writing a letter to that Grounder guy from the town over.

So Miller sits with Monty and Jasper at lunch.

And Octavia brings her new friend to meet the other delinquents.

They go back and forth and back and forth until Miller laughs one day and doesn’t realize that he’s laughing. Because it’s as natural as breathing, the way it climbs out of him. He stops drinking alone in his cabin, or with just Octavia, and shares a drink with Jasper. He takes more shifts working with the neighboring villages and going on trades with Bellamy. He finds his footing again, slowly but surely.

After a particularly long week where he made a loop to two different clans nearby, Miller returns home exhausted. His walkie died in the middle of the week but he trusted the people he was with to not kill him so he didn’t rush to get a new battery, or charge it, or whatever. So when he returns home and Monty’s on his porch looking worried, he pauses.

“What happened?” Miller asks at once, worried that maybe someone’s developed those lesions ALIE was talking about, or Raven found some sort of disaster awaiting them. The tension eases off of Monty slowly but Miller’s still striding toward him in fear. “Who died?”

“No—no one died, Nate,” Monty says, shaking his head.

“You look worried,” Miller points out.

“I was,” Monty admits. “I didn’t—I didn’t think you were coming home.” Miller pauses a few steps away from Monty. “When we couldn’t get ahold of you…” Monty trailed off, shaking his head another time. “Bellamy said not to worry, but…”

“You didn’t think I was coming home,” Miller repeats. Monty looks sorry, ducking his head and gnawing on his lip. “Monty.” Miller reaches out, close enough to touch him, but drops his hand at the last moment. He’s making progress, just like Octavia, moving day by day. But that feels like a jump he’s not ready to make yet. “I’m still pretty fucked up,” Miller says, annoyed that his voice is thick, “but I’m not going to run away.”

Monty finally looks up. He offers him a small smile, one that Miller can’t quite reciprocate yet, and says, “It’s nice to hear you say that.”

\--

Miller knew that they were planting the corn in the fields, but when it stretches up to the sky overnight he wants to lock himself in his cabin all day. But Octavia yanks him outside to get work done, and as long as he doesn’t look towards the fields he’ll be okay. Miller’s been doing great at avoiding the chicken coops (even when the wire got loose and dozens of people were chasing the birds around their camp) but the fields span a very large area of camp and they catch his eyes more than once.

He doesn’t realize he’s been staring until Bellamy materializes at his side, places a heavy hand on his shoulder, and tugs him to look a different direction. “You’re still allowed to dream,” Bellamy reminds him.

“Not that dream,” Miller answers gruffly. “It was ours. It can’t just be mine, now.”

Bellamy glances over at the fields of corn and then turns back to Miller. “He would want you to be happy," Bellamy insists. And Miller knows that's true. That Bryan would want Miller to be happy. To move on. To have stupid, hopeful conversations with someone else. But Miller's the one holding himself back. "Find a new dream then,” he says. “Go.”

Miller frowns. He isn’t sure what Bellamy means. So they stand in silence for a moment before a thought finally blossoms in Miller’s mind. He hesitates, not exactly sure he wants to be this vulnerable in front of Bellamy, but finally he sighs.

“I want to teach Raven to swim in the lake,” he says. Bellamy’s face instantly lights up with a smile but it’s clear the way his eyes are crinkling that he’s trying not to look too ecstatic. “I want to have a conversation with Clarke without snapping at her.” Bellamy lets out a short laugh. “I want to be your best friend again,” he murmurs.

Bellamy squeezes his shoulder. “Always have been,” Bellamy tells him. “Don’t let Octavia hear you say that though. She can be pretty possessive.”

“I want Octavia to be happy,” Miller carries on.

“You and me both,” Bellamy counters.

“I want to kiss Monty.” The smile on Bellamy’s face eases into something softer, something sweeter, and Miller feels a flare of guilt inside him mingled with something else—something like excitement which comes with admitting it out loud. He ducks his head. “I don’t want to feel horrible for wanting that,” Miller rasps. He shakes his head, stepping out of Bellamy’s grasp, and reaches up to scrub at his face. “I still miss him, Bellamy.”

“I know,” he says. “You might never stop.”

But he wants to. He wants to stop. He wants to move on. He wants this cabin on the lake with his best friends, with a future that isn’t full of war, with a field full of corn and a coop full of chickens. He wants to grow old and be happy and _live_. Miller just wants to live without this weight in his stomach.

“How?” Miller asks. “How can I…”

“One day at a time,” Bellamy tells him. “That’s all we can do.”

“One day at a time,” Miller agrees.

\--

Raven is not a fan of swimming, but Miller has a new list of dreams, of goals, and he aches to make them happen. So he takes her to the lake, out on the dock they built forever ago, and attempts to teach her how to swim. “Abby says it’ll be good for your hip,” Miller tells her. Jasper and Harper have come too, and they seem to think this is hilarious because Raven won’t stop grumbling. “C’mon, Reyes. Scared?”

“You wish,” she sneers. “When’d you learn to swim anyway?”

“We had those three months of peace a while back,” Miller said. “I wanted to go to ocean. Learn to surf.”

“Maybe after winter we can take a trip,” Harper says. “Clarke says she and Luna have been speaking again, so maybe she can have some of her hippie Grounders teach you.”

Raven struggles but she tries. It takes more than one session for her to really get a hang of it, but in the end she knows how to swim. And Miller feels good. He feels _good_.

When he’s talking to Bellamy later that week about what he’s done Bellamy smiles brighter than Miller can ever remember. They talk by the fire for a while and somehow the conversation drifts to Clarke. Bellamy doesn’t keep secrets from Miller and it’s then, he realizes, that maybe Bellamy was telling the truth. That even while Miller was only half in this relationship, Bellamy never stopped considering him his best friend. Because he’s honest and open and speaks about his feelings.

So when Miller finds himself next to Clarke later Miller’s ready to cross that off his list too, having a decent conversation with her. He mentions Wells and they speak about their mutual friend for a bit, and then he mentions Raven and Clarke admits she’s happy to see Raven out and about. And then he mentions Bellamy.

“If you’re allowed to nudge me along, I’m allowed to nudge you along too,” he says. His eyes flicker in Bellamy’s direction and Clarke purses her lips as though she’s thinking. “He’s ready when you are.”

“I know,” she says.

“You already share a cabin.”

Clarke lets out a huff of a laugh. “I know,” she says again. “Maybe… maybe soon.”

\--

Miller’s out on the porch of his cabin when he hears a laugh that belongs to Octavia. It’s full of that same enthusiastic energy she first had when they landed on the ground and he’s stunned into silence. He watches from a distance as she ducks and turns, practicing her sword fighting skills with a girl a little younger than her.

She looks happy. She _sounds_ happy.

Octavia lifts her head and catches Miller's eye from where she's standing. Her smile widens and she waves before lifting her sword and beginning to spar again.

 _I should’ve made a longer list_ , Miller thinks.

\--

He goes to Monty and Jasper’s cabin when he knows that Jasper will be out and knocks on the door almost hoping that no one will answer. But he knows Monty’s home, and soon the door’s open and Monty’s in the doorway. His grin is enough to make Miller feel unbalanced and he ushers Miller inside.

“I’m just working on this water system,” Monty tells him, leading him to the table in the kitchen where he’s been doing most of his work. There are schematics scattered everywhere, balled up paper and broken pencils, equations scribbled here and there. It’s a very Monty place. “Something up?”

The words rush out of him. “I want to kiss you.” Monty straightens up and looks at Miller with wide eyes. His hands fall to his sides and Miller shifts on his feet, but he can’t look away from Monty. They’re both frozen. “But I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

Monty blinks a few times before nodding. “Okay.”

“If I’m ever…” Miller trails off, swallows, licks his lips, starts again. “When I’m ready,” he begins, “would you want that too?”

Monty smiles brightly and Miller feels his breath catch in his throat. “Absolutely,” Monty says.

\--

It takes another few months.

Raven teaches some other kids to swim. Murphy proposes to Emori. Clarke leaves her cabin wearing Bellamy’s shirt. Harper joins Octavia in teaching the children some fighting skills. Jasper asks a pretty girl from the clan over on a date. All of these moments and more just happen, and Miller takes them in one at a time.

At night he sits with Octavia on the porch and they talk about their day, both of them teasing one another about boys. "You're my best friend," Octavia says one night after they finish a bottle of moonshine.

"You don't even like me," Miller reminds her. She grins in response. 

And then one evening Miller’s sitting on the dock with his feet in the water and Monty’s to his right, rambling on about something that happened earlier in the day while working on the piping to get the water system working, and Miller feels content. His mouth is pulled into a smile without any though to it. The air is warm. Everything feels right.

 _We’re gonna build a house on a lake_ , he thinks. He turns to Monty, still rambling. _Plant corn. Raise chickens_. These aren’t his dreams anymore.

But when he reaches out and cups Monty’s cheek, cutting off his incessant words and tugging him close so they can kiss, Miller thinks that maybe he can still share this one dream with someone. _We’ll grow old_. It doesn’t ache inside of him like it used to.

Monty kisses him back like he’s been waiting to do this for a very long time, eager lips and warm tongue, and Miller can’t stop feeling relieved. His fingers tangle in Monty’s silky hair and Monty holds onto his other wrist tightly, keeping him steady. Monty pulls back just a little tiny bit to whisper, “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Miller breathes back, tugging him toward him again.

Miller’s allowed to want this. He’s allowed to want to move on. He’s allowed to love again.

And he does. And he will.


End file.
